Heart Of Stone
by tomhiddlest0ner
Summary: Derek Hale and Bailey Barlow grew up in the light of childhood love, never thinking they'd say goodbye. But the Hale House Fire tore apart not only Derek's family, but Bailey's too, and she left Beacon Hills without so much as a goodbye to her best friend after the tragedy. Now, years later, Bailey has returned to her hometown to live in her old house - but why? Derek/OC
1. We Used To Play Outside

**A/N: Yes, it is I - tomhiddlest0ner, back with another Teen Wolf Fanfic. I'm getting obsessed with Derek Hale. So here it is! It's a bit slow at the beginning because most is establishing her back story, where she's from and why she's back there, etc. and what she does for a living. Enjoy, please read and review!**

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**CHAPTER ONE:**

**WE USED TO PLAY OUTSIDE WHEN WE WERE YOUNG**

* * *

In the middle of the forest, a small girl stood - she was no older than maybe ten or eleven years old, quite tiny for her age with dirty blonde hair that fell in graceful waves down to just above her shoulders, where the ends curled in an unruly way. She was petite looking and girly, thought covered in dirty from rolling around in the grass around the mansion-like Hale household, found in the centre of the Beacon Hills preserve. Her small hands were over her eyes, but her lips parted in a slight smirk as she peeked through her slender fingers, circling around for any direction in which her friends might have gone.

Derek Hale was watching her closely, no more than a year older than her, tall and darkly handsome even at his age - everyone could tell he was going to be one hell of a heartbreaker in his teen years, and maybe even through to his twenties. His eyes always held a mysterious glint no matter their colour - their usual sea-green or the sparkling beta-gold that always made Bailey, the blonde girl, hold her breath. She liked them. She liked his eyes so much, even though they always eventually turned the same shade as her own.

Her cat-like, crystal blue eyes were crinkled as she muffled her laughter - cheating now seemed so dirty, so cheeky and fun. She'd soon learn that cheating wasn't something to giggle at, more so something that would get people killed. Derek could see her, hear her laughter tinkling through the silence of the forest. It reminded him of bells, the tiny ones on Christmas trees - it was soft and gentle and made his chest swell with pride, though he wasn't sure why. A playful grin teetered at the corners of his lips, eyes narrowed, stalking her. He was out of her sight, but she certainly was not out of his.

Her heart thudded, and Bailey was sure Derek could hear it. She could hear his, soft and steady, but quiet enough that she couldn't pinpoint where he was. "Forty-nine," she counted softly, pretending she hadn't been peeking. "Fifty. Ready or not, here I come!" Her hands fell from her face and she giggled joyously, something that she'd never do in the years to come. She spun around, this time not hiding that her eyes were scanning her surroundings. She wanted to find Derek first - Cora, Laura (who was almost fourteen, but played for the sake of amusing her child siblings and friends) and Bailey's brother, Ashton, were hiding far in the woods. So far that Bailey couldn't hear where they were. But Derek...

Derek knew that a close hiding spot would allow time for he and Bailey to be alone.

He wasn't sure what he felt for her - at twelve years old, it felt odd to want to have someone all to your own. But Derek Hale was a demanding boy, and every moment spent alone with Bailey was cherishable. They had their own little world, a future planned together. Bailey said she'd ditch the dresses her mother clothed her in, and Derek said he'd marry her with a plastic ring from a cereal box and a pack of Gummy Babies as a promise. She'd believed him.

Her feet crunched leaves and twigs as she moved, knowing Derek was closer with every step. She licked her lips, glanced around. He'd made a mistake. She could see his tanned fingers wrapping around a tree trunk, and she knew he'd done it on purpose. Silent as a cat stalking prey, Bailey moved, breathing steady as she crept up on him. With not a moment of hesitation, she jumped out at him, screaming "Boo!" as she did so. He pretended to be scared for her sake but really, the boy saw it coming.

Derek grabbed her wrists, pinning her up against the tree with a sneaky smirk. "You were supposed to be the one catching me," he said, grinning. She squirmed, her eyebrows pulling together in a frown.

"Derek," she whined, finding she couldn't escape his grip. It was gentle, though - he'd never hurt her. She poked her tongue out at him, and he laughed, his dark green eyes crinkling in the corners in the pretty way that made her feel a strange flutter in her stomach. She blew a raspberry and wiggled out of his grasp, ducking under his arms and running behind him. He blinked, turning on the spot to see her waiting for him, grinning with her cheeks a bright red. "You're bad at keeping me caught," she stated, very matter-of-factly. Derek rolled his eyes at the blonde girl.

"We had a deal, remember?" he asked, seriousness returning to his face. They did, in fact, make a pact, with the whole spit-on-your-hands-and-shake thing that had made Bailey wince. She stared at him, long and hard until she rolled her eyes teasingly, Derek stepping forward. "You lost. So you have to kiss me."

"Fine," she said. Bailey was never one to back down from a promise or a dare, and it was their deal - the loser had to kiss the other. So she stepped forward, light on her feet and never letting her eyes fall from his. Young love was funny in that way - they never knew that they were really in love, mistaking their feelings for laughter and creating a bond that would forever tie their hearts in one place - to each other. She locked her hands behind her back after smoothing her dress skirt down, leaning in close and getting on the tips of her toes to purse her lips. Derek leaning forward, the girly-but-forresty smell of the girl intoxicating him as he closed his eyes.

The little blonde girl pressed a kiss to his lips, her own eyes closing momentarily before she stepped back, a triumphant grin on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest. "There," she said. "I kissed you, Derek Hale. You'll never forget that."

* * *

Bailey Barlow gripped the steering wheel of her rusted Chevrolet El Camino ute, her knuckles whitening from the tight hold she had as she stared straight forward, her mind racing. She was on her way home - on her way to Beacon Hills, where her life had once been. It had been six years - six long, agonising years since the Hale house fire. She was twenty-two now, and Derek would be nearing twenty-three - but she shook the thought out of her head. She wasn't returning for Derek, that ship had sunk a long, long time ago.

She was returning because she was on the run.

Beacon Hills was where she grew up, but she had nobody there that she loved anymore. Her only surviving family member, Ashton, had left much like Bailey did after the fire. At sixteen years old, she didn't know what to do with herself. Her parents were dead, her brother was a deadbeat and she was alone. She found help for six years, but even those people turned their backs on her, and she was alone and running for her life. In truth, Bailey had no idea where her brother was. They'd last spoken maybe three years ago, and the same went for Derek and the remaining Hale's - Peter and Laura. Bailey and her "best friend" Derek hadn't had so much as a conversation since the day she left Beacon Hills six years ago, and she wanted to keep it that way.

It wasn't as though her and Derek had ended on bad terms, per se, but her family had died while visiting in the Hale house, and looking at his broken face just brought back bad memories. Bailey had grown up with that sourwolf, watched their childhood romance fade as he dated and womanized girl after girl - Paige, who he genuinely liked, and even Kate, who burned his fucking house down. She'd always loved Derek Hale, and he'd always loved someone else. The girl tucked a strand of her wavy, dirty-blonde hair behind her ear and continued to drive in the silence of the night, not wanting music because it frustrated her endlessly sometimes.

Her mind was elsewhere, and she hated herself for it, but she kept her eyes on the road and the trees thinning around her, the dirt road that led through the Reserve and to the Hale house, the night stars flickering overhead. She'd be returning to her old (and abandoned) house with nothing but a mattress, some blankets and her clothes - along with her seemingly endless supply of money thanks to her parents death. She'd been saving it for an important time, and now... now was that time.

She needed to renovate - Bailey found that she wanted nothing more than to throw out the remaining cracked photo-frames on the dusty panel of the fireplace, get rid of her childhood toys that remained locked in the basement of the huge house. The property had quite a lot of land, and the house was home to many different rooms. Bailey knew she'd get lonely there, she always did, even when she was just a little girl. Endless bedrooms and living rooms, bathrooms that went untouched for years until they had company every now and then - usually a Hale or a school friend staying the night or two.

As she pulled up in the driveway to the old house, Bailey felt a kick in her gut. It brought back memories, everything she'd ever felt in her life... and she didn't want it. She wanted to rent a shitt, piss-smelling flat in Brooklyn and sleep on her mattress with the traffic keeping her awake, her mind running off to places she'd never been before. Sighing, Bailey grabbed the keys and shut off her car, tucking the thin, portable mattress and and quilt cover under her arms before she made her way into the house. It was late - she'd do all that moving in and becoming acquainted shit in the morning. For now, she wanted to sleep.

* * *

A few days passed by, and Bailey had done nothing but land herself a job as an English substitute teacher at Beacon Hills high. No work had been done on the house, and there was no sign of Derek Hale though the local, older residents had a lot to say about the feisty blonde's return. Gone were her pink, frilly dresses, instead replaced with tight tank-tops and sexy denim shorts. Well... until she went to work. She knew she had to dress professionally - hell, she'd be stuck in a classroom with horny teens all day. Though it wasn't an ideal job for her, she'd studied for her part and worked hard to get her degree over the few years she'd been alone.

She had what she'd worked for. So why was it so unsatisfying to slip on a plain black pencil skirt and pretty black wedge heels? Bailey straightened her white button-up shirt, tucked nicely and neatly into her skirt. She looked quite professional and was happy with herself, but it was boring. Her hair was down and she wished for something of colour in her outfit, but instead through a black winter trench coat over her shoulders and grabbed her handbag, stuffing her keys inside as she headed toward the office of the school.

A woman with thin, penciled eyebrows and a nasty smile gave her a tour - Mrs. Argent, she said her name was. Bailey wasn't sure she cared all that much. She waltzed into her class, her hips swinging with her steps, and tossed her bag on the table. Twenty-four pairs of eyes stared at her, blinking and judging. She cleared her throat and pushed her hair from her face before her palms met the mahogany wood of the table before her. She leaned forward, assessing her students. "Right," she said, unsure of where to start. Years of studying for an awkward start like this? Nice one, Bailey Barlow. Real smooth. "My name is Ms Barlow. Call me Bailey, I don't care, I'm not here long. Mr Harris is sick, as I understand."

One girl raised her hand, strawberry blonde hair and a pretty face. Bailey nodded at her, cocking her head to the side as she spoke. "Aren't you a little young to be a teacher?" the girl - Lydia - asked, knitting her eyebrows together. Bailey wasn't sure if her comment was meant to be snarky, but her tone held venom and the blonde didn't like it. She pursed her red-painted lips and shrugged.

"Maybe," she answered, and left it at that. She probably was a bit young to be teaching - but her half-faked files did say that she was a year and a half older than she really was. The Lydia girl shrugged her shoulders, as though she didn't care about any answer she received from the woman before her though she studied the substitute's face quite closely. Bailey Barlow - or, for Lydia, just Bailey - was a slender woman of average height. Her skin was sunkissed, a light coffee colour that was sure to drive the boys insane. Her hair wasn't the bottle blonde that most saw with girls that looked like her, but the dirty, almost sandy-looking blonde that she'd grown up with. Her lips, coated in red lipstick, her plump and shapely, and ironically enough (for she was a werewolf) her eyes were shaped nice and cat-like, the blue irises bright and capturing.

Lydia resented the fact that her substitute teacher was almost prettier than her.

Bailey shrugged off her black coat and threw it over the back of her chair, opening her folder and pulling out the unmarked role. "Alrighty," she said underneath her breath, furrowing her shaped eyebrows as she searched for a pen. After a second of searching, her fingers froze in mid-air. Her head shot up, eyes wide. Searching... searching... Another wolf. Another few wolves, it seemed. How many were here? And teenagers, too? Her heart was in her fucking throat as she looked around, trying not to freak out. She'd never - never! - encountered wolves at work before. She'd been at three schools before this, all thinking she was older, all werewolf-free save for herself. Her heart thudded. So did two others in the room.

Plastering a smile on her face, the woman grabbed a pen and gave a breathy chuckle. "I thought I'd lost my pen," she murmured, more to herself. Then, she began the roll-call for the students. A's, B's, C's... so on and so forth. Weird names that she struggled to pronounce, and some she didn't even bother with. She met the eyes of each of the students, wanting to know who the wolves were. No doubt they knew she was one already. "Isaac Lahey." She locked eyes with a dark-blonde, curly haired boy with a killer jaw and a light complexion. His heart picked up speed. So did Bailey's.

"Present," he said, but the word was charred and gravelly, scared, almost. He cleared his throat and Bailey glanced down, continuing with the role. She went through three or four more names before she got to Scott McCall, who had a reaction much like Lahey's. She knew, now, who the wolves were at least. She finished up and shoved the roll back in her folder, pursing her lips.

It was going to be a long fucker of a day, that was for sure.

* * *

Seeing Derek was bound to happen.

Beacon Hills wasn't that small, but it was small enough that they'd end up running into each other sooner or later. It was never going to be at the local deli or the shopping center - no, that would have saved Bailey some embarrassment. Instead, she had on her tiny shorts after work, her tank-top, blonde hair tied into a ponytail while her iPod earbuds were shoved into her ears. Sweat coated her forehead, her cheeks were red from the jog she'd been on. Truthfully, Bailey wasn't sure why she'd decided to run this track. It went right by the Hale house, where her family had burned to death...

The blonde swallowed hard and kept running past the house, but a familiar scent caught her nose and she stopped in her tracks, ripping her earbuds out and spinning on the spot to find her stalking werewolf buddy. Her eyebrows pulled together in a frown, and Bailey could hear him, but the man never caught her view. His heartbeat was steady - almost skipping with joy, actually. She could practically hear Derek's smirk, and the vision of her ten-year-old Derek flashed through her mind. She shoved it away. "I know you're out there, Hale."

"You didn't count to fifty," came the reply, a rough voice ringing through the forest. Bailey's head snapped to her left, still nothing. She narrowed her eyes and slowed her breathing, focusing on nothing except for the male's heartbeat though she knew she should have just left and focused on avoiding any member of the Hale family at all costs. But Bailey Barlow - she was a woman of pride, something of which she was very ashamed, but she'd never let a man get the better of her before, and she certainly was not about to do it now. Her pink lips curved into a smirk and she continued walking deeper into the forest, alert and observant. "Count to fifty."

"Forty-nine, fifty," Bailey retorted, rolling her eyes. Derek snorted.

"Have you forgotten how to count?"

"I teach English, not math."

Derek had his back pressed to a tree, head turned slightly to listen to her voice. She'd changed, but in a way, she hadn't at all. She was still that same dirtied girl with the blonde hair and cunning features, but now, she lacked her dresses and childish innocence. Bailey had seen the world, and she'd come crawling back to her home. Did she want to get away from the cruel world that made her who she was this day? Derek didn't know. All he knew was that she was back, and it couldn't mean good news. "Why are you back here, Barlow?"

"None of your business," the blonde snapped in return, a slight growl in her velvety voice. A movement caught her eye - Derek's hand snaking out from behind the tree, giving himself a way like he used to do. She wondered what it meant as she walked forward, sneaking up on him. Her breathing was steady, her mind was not. She jumped at him, but this time, Derek didn't have the upper hand. Bailey didn't know if he'd let her dominate him on purpose or if she really had beat him, but she pinned him down on the forest floor and growled at him.

In a way, Derek Hale hadn't changed at all. He still had the same cheeky glint in his green eyes, the same smirk on his lips. But he was a man now - coated in sexy stubble with a jaw so sharp he could cut fucking butter with it. His arms tensed beneath her grip, but he didn't fight against her, instead allowing her to remain with her knees either side his hips and her clawed fingers pressing firmly into his biceps. "You won," the male breathed, still smirking. "Guess I have to kiss you."

"Fuck off," Bailey spat, irritated. Things weren't like they'd been when they were younger - things were ruined, and Derek should have fucking known it.

"What are you doing back here?" Derek asked again, allowing her curse to slide past. Bailey sneered.

"Like I said, it's none of your business, Hale," she replied, though admittedly, she felt like she was being too harsh. She drew back slightly, frowning. "I just needed to be back," the blonde said quietly. "Not everyone's my biggest fan out there in the big, bad world."

"I can't imagine why," Derek replied, rolling his eyes. Bailey stood, brushed off her bare knees and straightened her shorts, leaving Derek to stand on his own. His arms folded over his broad chest, and the little girl inside of Bailey wanted to stare with wide-eyes at the amazing physique he'd acquired over the past few years. She averted her eyes and made sure to keep them locked on his, though it made her heart beat fast and Derek would notice, anyway. "Who's after you?"

Bailey looked at him curiously. "What makes you think someone's after me?" she asked, and Derek frowned.

"I don't think you'd come here unless it was your absolute last resort."

The blonde woman paused, taking a moment to consider her statement. A small part of her wanted to roll her eyes at how well he still knew her, but she couldn't. Not in a million years. So instead, she mustered the anger she could and glared at him with all her might, beginning to walk away from him. "You don't know a fucking thing about me," she snapped nastily, turning away. "You lost that years ago. Don't pretend like you know what's in my head."

So maybe Derek did know what was in her head - he'd grown up with Bailey, learned the innerworkings of the girl's mind. Or had she really changed that much? Derek was scared to find out, watching her back as she walked away.


	2. Surprise, Surprise

**A/N: Once again, apologies with how slow we're starting. I'm really enjoying this story, though, and Bailey's character development is very important to me, so enjoy this chapter and please, read and review guys! Also, this is set in the SECOND SEASON, so the person Derek's mentions that has been murdered is Isaac's father.**

**Special thanks to all favoriters, followers, and my five reviewers: Sav, Amnex, Kat7CA (ily), hippyhoes, and xXbriannaXx. Your support keeps this story updated!**

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**CHAPTER TWO:**

**SURPRISE, SURPRISE**

* * *

The next morning, Bailey was reluctant to get out of bed - if you could call where she was sleeping a bed. She was still on the floor of her old house on a mattress, curled up in thick covers which kept her toasty warm and well hidden from the biting teeth of the cold just outside the refuge of her bed. She would have been quite happy to remain there, but the alarm clock wailed at her from just out of her reach and the sun beckoned a stuffy moan from her throat. She was tired - the blonde had spent her night getting mad over how Derek had acted around her, a surprisingly odd ease within their interactions. That wasn't what Bailey had wanted - she'd wanted a fight, she'd wanted him to be mad at her. She deserved it.

Or maybe Derek had known that not being angry would spark bitterness in Bailey. Maybe that was his way of getting revenge on her. Either way, their brief meeting had left her reeling and unable to sleep until the early hours of the morning. She may have been a werewolf, but she wasn't immune to being tired. The smell of coffee from the tiny place next door, placed to her convenience, begged her to wake. She sighed and rolled over, giving a squeak of surprise as she tumbled off the mattress and onto the hard, cold floorboards. She moaned.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she cursed, standing.

Somebody cleared their throat, and Bailey screamed and spun around. Her blue eyes fell on the figures of two males - how had she not noticed they were here? Those stupid kid wolves from the school the other day. Their eyes bugged out at the sight of her sleepwear, or rather lack thereof. Her hands made a feeble attempt to cover herself and her lingerie, but she failed, standing as though trying to hold her body together. "What the hell are you doing in my house?" she demanded, not taking her eyes off of the boys before she bent at the waist to grab one of her blankets. "You could have knocked like two normal, sophisticated people!"

The darker skinned one, Scott, opened his mouth to reply. "Sorry," he said, feebly.

"Derek sent us," the other said, and Scott elbowed him, hissing his name. Apparently, that was taboo information. Bailey rolled her eyes and wrapped her blanket around herself. She should've known that Derek wouldn't let her excuse for why she was back go - it didn't tell him much. Was she a threat? Quite possibly. Well, in Derek's eyes, possibly. Bailey knew that she had no plans to hurt Derek or whatever pack he may or may not have made... which seemed to consist of two teenage boys at the moment.

"You know, I work at your school. I teach you. This is weird," Bailey argued, feeling invaded. Scott shifted awkwardly, probably regretting this decision. "He's outside, isn't he?"

Isaac looked at Scott, unsure. Scott licked his lips, looking quite forlorn. Bailey sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her voice for Derek to hear from outside. "Get your ass in here, Hale," she demanded. Really, she'd rather just get ready for work and not have to deal with three intruders in her god-damn house, but she wanted to know what this was about. What the hell did Derek want? After a moment of silence, the door squeaked open and the man stepped inside, almost looking pissed about the fact that he'd been caught out. Bailey pursed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at Derek, waiting for her explanation. "What the hell do you want?"

"I could ask the same to you," he retorted, and Bailey raised an eyebrow. Derek Hale was quite possibly the biggest child she'd ever met in her life. "Yesterday you said you were running from someone. Who is it?"

"It's none of your business." The blonde jerked her head in the direction of Scott and Isaac. "What made you think that I'd talk to them?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Derek sighed. "They were supposed to be more demanding."

"In our defense, she's not even wearing any clothes," Isaac mumbled, cheeks lighting a gentle red. Bailey said nothing, just standing with her arms crossed and the death-glare on her features. She was already tired of being back in Beacon Hills - she really didn't want to be putting up with this crap. And Derek... he was different. There was something so odd about him now. Not the lovestruck different in his eyes which jealous little Bailey had seen when he was dating Paige - or when he'd dated Kate Argent, either - but something... cold. Harsh. She knitted her eyebrows together and cocked her head to the side, closely observing the beta-turned-alpha.

"You're different," she said after a moment. Derek snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I'm twenty-three, not sixteen." She should have known that he wouldn't be the same man he'd been when she left - she was running from her past, after all, and was changed, too. If he could just find out why...

"You're acting like you're sixteen again," she snapped. "If you want to know why I'm back in Beacon Hills, try a normal goddamn conversation!"

"We both know you don't like to cooperate," Derek replied, annoyed. Growing up, Bailey had always been a bit stubborn - it was in her blood, it always would be. Just like the werewolf gene she held. "Bailey, this is important."

"Why is it so important?"

"Because someone was murdered the night you got here!"

His tone was harsh and accusing, and it shut her up. She hadn't seen that coming, and the blonde frowned and swallowed thickly. Death was, naturally, a touchy subject for her and now that she thought Derek was trying to pin something on her, a shiver ran down her spine. She worried that she might end up in jail or something, especially now that she'd rolled into town the same night some whacko had offed someone. Did she know who it was? Probably. She didn't ask. "Are you saying that I killed someone?" Bailey asked, though her voice lacked the previous anger. Now, she was quiet. Offended, almost. It felt like she'd just been hit in the chest, and she couldn't breath. She needed air. "Why would you think that?"

Derek stared at her for a moment, but it seemed he was unable to say much more. His gaze was filled with fire and it burned her skin, but she said nothing. Neither did he. The silence was thick, and they seemed to have forgotten about the two younger wolves in the room. There was a lot that Derek wanted to say, but the man had pride, and he was not about to look weak in front of Isaac and Scott. Not now, not ever. Bailey could leave again for all he cared - no goodbye, no word for three years. He didn't care. After a moment, Derek was the first to speak. "Because you left, and I don't know you."

Bailey's frown remained etched into her features, and she was caught off-guard. "Derek, come on. I wouldn't-"

"Maybe you wouldn't have done it three years ago," Derek interrupted, stepping forward. "But now, I don't know, Bailey."

That was like a kick in the goddamn gut, and Bailey wasn't sure why. She'd been the one to leave, so why did he make her feel so guilty about it? With that, Derek beckoned the two younger wolves to follow as he left the house. Bailey was confused, angry, and slightly hurt - but she wasn't sure what she had expected. Did she think that she would have been able to waltz back into Beacon Hills, where she'd find Derek's open arms and a new life, away from her past three years? No. It never went like that. Not for Bailey Barlow.

* * *

When Bailey was almost sixteen years old, and Derek on the verge of turning seventeen, Derek met Kate Argent. Bailey was instantly jealous, because Kate was like a cooler version of herself. She had wavy blonde hair and smile that could melt butter. She was a year or so older and had a curvaceous, busty body that made Bailey scowl when she wore bikinis to swim in the lake. She had been with Derek on one of the rare afternoons that they actually got to spend alone together - they were usually in the company of their siblings or Kate, who Bailey had grown to hate. Bailey was sprawled out on the large rock that slightly resembled Pride Rock, hanging over the lake with her toes in the cool water, soaking up the afternoon's sun. Derek sat beside her with a pack of chips, happily sitting in silence.

He liked Kate, really, but he couldn't help his eyes drinking in the sight of Bailey then. She was beautiful, really, with long eyelashes hanging over her closed eyes and the ghost of a smile on her pink lips. She was wearing her swimsuit, hair damp from the lake and droplets of water scattered around her tanned skin, sparkling in the sunlight. He had always liked moments when he could drink in the sight of her without her noticing - she'd probably get weirded out and punch him or something. His eyes travelled over the contours of her body, her chest, her flat stomach... on until there was nothing more to look at. He'd keep looking all day if he had the chance.

The blonde girl suddenly sat up, sniffing the air with a frown on her features. "Do you smell that?" she asked Derek, and he blinked, tilting his head.

"The smoke?" he asked, looking around. The air was filled with the thick smell, off-putting and sickening. Bailey stood quickly, panic on her face as she stared in the direction the smell seemed to be coming from - the direction of the Hale house. "Bailey," Derek breathed, grabbing her hand tightly before he took off running through the forest. For the first time, Derek Hale felt real fear as he arrived back home, seeing his house engulfed in flames, hearing his family's screams. Bailey gave a spine-tingling cry, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked on. Their families were in there, screaming for help... but what could they do?

The blonde tried to get past Derek to get inside, but the boy's firm grip locked around her and they fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs, Bailey squirming and Derek fighting to hold her back. Tears pricked at his eyes, but they streamed down Bailey's face, leaving clear paths in the ash that lined her cheeks. "Let me go!" she screamed, almost getting free before Derek pulled her back again, holding her tight against his chest. He wanted to go back, too, but there was nothing they could have done to save their families - they were burning alive... right in front of them.

Laura arrived a short while later with the ambulances, police department and fire department. They found one survivor - Peter Hale - while Laura called Ashton, Bailey's brother, to give him the news. Five of them left. The number strangled Bailey. Sheriff Stilinski held her close. Derek couldn't breathe - he thought it was the smoke, but Laura knew it wasn't. So much was happening at once, the two teenagers weren't sure what to do. They couldn't stand looking anywhere else but at each other. Derek took over from Sheriff Stilinski and cradled Bailey while she wailed into his shirt, a tearful imprint of her face left on the sea-blue.

When she arrived home with Ashton, who remained silent and went straight to his room, Bailey went and sat on the edge of her bed, hands on her thighs. She looked like a sad, porcelain doll as she stared into space, eyes fixed on the polaroid photo stuck on her wall. It was her family, all squished into one tiny square frame. Her mother, blonde like Bailey, was smiling, a sunhat on her head and Bailey's father's hand around her waist. Her younger sister, Rosalie, was right at the front between Bailey and Ashton. Square, the kelpie their family owned was mid-scratch as he sat in the corner of the photo. Everything looked normal.

Bailey did nothing but sit in that spot for two whole days. Then, she'd curled into a ball on her bed for ten days, scarcely eating, unmoving. Derek sometimes sat at her bedside with her in the dull silence, once even holding her hand for comfort.

Eventually, Sheriff Stilinski had come by after being contacted and told that she hadn't attended school in almost two weeks. Bailey had failed three classes and was on the verge of needing to repeat her year of high-school, though the man had talked long and hard with the teachers and pleaded that she be able to retake her exams. Bailey had never really known why he'd cared so much - she was just some random kid who lost her family, she wasn't anything special at all, even if Derek had once murmured in her ear late one night that she was everything he had left. She didn't believe it - any of it. Derek was a liar and Sheriff Stilinski was a liar and his cute son was a liar when he said he liked her laugh and that cute son's wife was a liar when she said she'd made them tuna casserole as a sorry gift and everyone lied when they said they were sorry.'

Bailey hated liars.

* * *

"I should get a puppy."

Bailey looked around her empty house as she stepped inside after work that day, and she saw the claw marks on the ground from where Square used to scratch at the ground. Bailey's mom had always told him off about that. Three years after the fire, when Ashton left nineteen year old Bailey alone, he'd taken Square with him and gone off to start his new life. Bailey wasn't far behind him in leaving and soon found herself in Brooklyn feeding strays on the street her bagels. Now, she missed Square and she wanted something to remind her of the family pet she'd once had. Grabbing her bag, she returned to her car, having already made her decision.

There wasn't much to choose from at the local pet store - all the puppies were cute, sure, but none of them were like Square used to be. They were quiet and yawning and sleepy little things, and Bailey needed something big and loud and friendly. She'd left the pet store and gone down to the Animal Shelter, where she browsed for hours before finding the perfect companion.

He was small and six months old, found as a puppy behind an alleyway trash-bin outside of where that Scott kid worked. With perky, fluffy ears and a white snout, the puppy was a mixture of millions of different tones of brown worked into his fur, and his front left paw was as snowy white as his snout. The keepers weren't sure what breed he was - possibly a mixture of Australian Cattle Dog and a Kelpie - Square had been a Kelpie. Bailey watched the dog in its pen for a while, amused with how much energy it seemed to have. "What should I call you?" she mused aloud, furrowing her eyebrows.

The dog's ears perked up and he came running up to Bailey, jumping up on the gate of his gate and yelping a few times. "Not something boring," Bailey argued, and the puppy cocked his head to the side as if he understood her. This made the brunette chuckle slightly. "You can understand me, huh?" she asked it, as though expecting a reply. The dog seemed to grin. "What about Grinner? Burger?" A grin broke out across Bailey's face as she exclaimed; "Tennant! You can be Ten for short." The dog barked, wagged his tail.

He seemed to like his crappy home enough, and when Bailey arrived home with Ten, he even scratched at the floorboards where Square used to do it. It was nice, having some company in the lonesome house when there wasn't really anyone else in Beacon Hills that she knew well enough to talk to - even Derek, whom she used to know like the back of her hand, was somebody completely new to her. Perhaps the lack of friends would give her time to finally start redecorating her house. She'd been there for almost a week now and done nothing, save for buying everything that Tennant needed.

After a few hours, Ten had exhausted himself to the point of crashing and sleeping, and Bailey was lonely again. She wondered if Derek ever got lonely.


	3. Part Of Your Pack

**A/N: Sorry for disappearing again. I can't seem to find the time to write anymore, let alone watch anything. But I'm still caught up with Teen Wolf. NEXT JANUARY WILL KILL ME. I can feel it. Thanks for all your reviews and feedback, love it! Here's a bit of a longer chapter, finally getting into the actual episodes here. Enjoy.**

**Thanks to InuNekoLexi, Samix3Bieber, Amnex, purpleVampire22, xXBriannaXx, Silent and 1998Baby for reviewing!**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE:**

**PART OF YOUR PACK**

* * *

Bailey was tired.

She'd gone through the motions of her new, unexciting day-to-day life quite a lot through the past week and she felt bad for wishing that more was happening with the betas, Derek's pack-life and the murders. Alright – so maybe wishing that there were more murders or _something_ to excite her was bad. But she'd moved back to Beacon Hills from the city life, where the supernatural was constantly coming to play and she had someone to fight, a cause. Now, the only demons she fought were in her mind and her only cause was teaching a class of half-witted sophomore students, two of which trembled in fear each time her blue eyes landed on them. She guessed they thought she was going to gut them or something for breaking into her house yesterday, but in reality, Bailey didn't care about what they did and who they were doing it for.

Friday was Bailey's favorite day, because it meant that she could go to bed with a bottle of wine and not hate herself at six am the next morning when she had to go to work. The afternoon sun flickered through her car as she drove along the winding roads, heading toward the edges of Beacon Hills where her home was. She hated arriving there every day – the property was huge just like the Hale house had been, and loomed over her, a shadow engulfing her car as she rolled into the driveway. The windows were cracked and empty, the paint outside was chipping and the stairs leading to the wraparound porch were rotting. The blonde drew in a breath and tucked a wayward curl that had fallen from her bun behind her ear, grabbing her bag as she hopped out the car.

As soon as the fresh, unfiltered evening air filled her nostrils, Bailey knew something was up.

She recognized his scent – how could she not? Bailey had known Derek hale for years and years and his smell would always be something she knew immediately. It wasn't like she would have imagined if she'd met Derek these days – his scent was… young. It was Derek when he was full of life and when he loved her like a best friend ought to. She could remember the first time she'd taken that breath of air with her new wolf-senses, because she hadn't been that young. Her wolf-side had been a late bloomer, and all the other natural born wolves chuckled at her. But it was new, her wolf senses, and it was insanely good. It had been Christmas time, and both the Hale and Barlow families were together in one massive tangle of people.

Cinnamon was in the air and Bailey was seven years old, Derek nine. He'd developed his werewolf senses slowly, one at a time, starting from when he was five years old. Now, he was a fully-functioning wolf with a huge ego and a cocky grin every time he found Bailey in hide and seek. Bailey was playing with her fingers, sitting alone in the living room while the others played. The blonde could remember how upset she'd been, watching them change their faces or use their abilities against each other – against her. She felt left out, and more-so when they mocked her about it. Her hair was in two pigtails on the side of her head, red ribbon wrapped around the curls of hair. "I look like Cindy from _The Brady Bunch_," the girl had complained, and her mother had laughed.

Derek made his way into the living room, slightly tired but mostly wanting to see Bailey. It was funny, how Derek never realized what that his love wasn't _just_ laughter and the reddened cheeks in the winter, lips that his eyes always lingered on. Bailey looked up at him as he entered, arms crossed over her chest and a childish pout on her mouth. "What do _you_ want?" she demanded, harsh as she could manage. Derek gave a slight chuckle and a smirk.

"Why are you sitting in here alone?" he asked, a taunting tone forced into his words. She shrugged.

"Don't wanna play," Bailey huffed.

Derek sat down beside her, and that's when it hit her.

The Hale boy was an intense mixture of everything she loved, as though the Gods had taken a checklist from the little girl and made sure that Derek smelt just right. There was the heavy scent of the forest after rain, the dirt and pine thick and making her head spin as her eyes flashed gold, mouth falling open. She could almost taste it, the gentle cinnamon smell that came with Derek, the scent of freshly baking cookies from the kitchen… her mother's perfume. It all came at once. She'd never forget that.

Now, Bailey was resenting the pine, dirt and cinnamon smell that was Derek Hale. It seemed too soft for him these days, too calm for the man he seemed to be. But if there was one thing that she'd learned growing up as a werewolf, it was that the scent rarely lied. Was Derek one of those rare cases? The woman wrinkled her nose and shoved the memory far, far away, back to the tiny box in her mind in which she crammed "heart-warming" child memories, instead wanting to focus on the fact that Derek was on her property and seemingly agitated or worried. She could feel the emotions radiating off of him as she unlocked the front door, furrowing her brows and looking around the dim house.

He was sitting there on her couch, thick eyebrows furrowed as he stared into space, legs crossed loosely in front of him. His arms were folded across his broad chest, which was rising and falling quickly as though he was trying not to lose control over something. His head snapped up as she dropped her bag onto the floor and cocked out her hip, an expectant look on her face. "What are you doing here?" the blonde demanded, and Derek's eyes flooded with guilt and hesitance.

"I need your help."

* * *

Saving a beta had not been on Bailey's to-do list this morning, and she hadn't anticipated a change quite so big. Half an hour ago, the blonde had scheduled an hour of yoga to ease her mind and instead, had changed from her classy work clothes to ripped denim shorts and a white wife-beater, tugging fat combat boots onto her feet and cursing the Argent's name, words like fire. She hadn't known the rest of the Argent family, but Kate had always had a place on her 'worst people in the world list' and Bailey had almost cheered before when Derek had mentioned that Peter had killed her… Peter was dead, too, but that was beside the point. The family murdering, son-of-a-bitch huntress was gone.

And a psycho, power-hungry old man replaced her.

In many ways, Gerard was like a wiser version of his daughter, or so Derek said. The man had already infiltrated the high school as principal and was a scarily calm man, even in the most dangerous of situations. He was fiery and nasty, though not as hot-headed as Kate. And, like her, he had one mission in life: kill all werewolves. It didn't matter whether they were just misfortunate cases like Scott's had been, or whether the werewolf was actually a stone-cold killer. Wolves were wolves, and they were vermin to the Argent family. Bailey had listened to everything that Derek had needed to say to her, because his tired and somewhat scared eyes told her that he wasn't entirely comfortable with his alpha position. It was new, stolen from his uncle that had gone insane. Isaac had been taken into custody as a suspect of his father's murder, and the Argent's were on their way.

Apparently, they knew he was a wolf.

The fact that he was sixteen didn't bother them very much, and the Argent clan loaded their guns, sharpened their knives and headed toward the police station. Bailey ran her hand through her now let-down hair, striding past Derek as Scott arrived outside to pick the two of them up in Derek's sleek, black car. She didn't bother locking the doors, but instead almost ran to the car and jumped into the back seat. Although she wasn't a member of Derek's pack and certainly didn't know Isaac, Bailey was angry. Her hands shook – it wasn't fair for the Argent's to target an innocent, he'd done nothing wrong. Sure, he was a suspect, but wolves knew better and Bailey wasn't stupid… and even if it had been Isaac, the boy was so young, he wouldn't have even known what he was doing until his father's heart had stopped beating and his blood wasn't washing off Isaac's hands.

Scott drove unbearably terrible, but they arrived at the Lahey house just before nightfall, Derek clutching a torch since the house was incredibly dark. Bailey didn't say much, instead just following the alpha and the beta through the house. Slowly, the three of them moved through the small home, which seemed just like any place else. A feeling of grief overcame Bailey, and she shuddered, turning her head to face a white door, closed. She furrowed her eyebrows. "Derek," she called, causing the male to turn around, soon appearing at her side. Scott stood behind the two of them, nervous. "I think this is the basement door," she said softly. He'd not told her all the details, but instead said that Lahey had been abusing Isaac. The rest would come to her naturally, of course.

Derek stepped forward and opened the door, turning to Scott. "You want to learn?" he asked, snide. "Start now." The light from the torch lit the stairwell and the concrete flooring of the small room as Scott began down the stairs, the two older wolves following him. Bailey didn't like it – she could sense it, feel the anger and the pain that had been felt within this tiny room, constricted by the walls. Scott wasn't exactly understanding what was going on, unsure of what he was looking for as he walked around, but Bailey knew as soon as her boots met the hard floor. Her head ached and she drew in a sharp breath, cussing loudly.

"What am I looking for?" Scott asked, and Derek pursed his lips behind Bailey.

"The kind of thing that leaves an impression," he said, tilting his head to the side, watching Bailey with curiosity and slight worry. She was gritting her teeth, eyes scanning around for what she knew Scott would soon find. A broken mirror, smashed to pieces, but that was only half of it. The boy's head rose and he walked toward an old freezer, breathing heavier as his slender fingers took the lock, studying it. The sides and lid of the unused white coffin-like object were covered in bloodied fingernail marks, scratches that sent flashes though Bailey's mind of Isaac Lahey lying in the freezer, screaming and screaming though nobody came. The blonde turned away, half-listening to the aggressive conversation that the two male wolves were having. Scott, accusing Derek of turning teenagers, Derek trying to convince Scott to be in his pack. "Isaac still asked for the bite, Scott, even after I told him about the Argents, about being hunted."

"Then he's an idiot!" Scott defended. Bailey shook her head, stepping in for the first time since they'd entered the basement.

"Scott, Isaac was desperate. He needed power, a vice… don't you see what his father did to him?" she asked, and Derek rolled his eyes at the boy.

"You're the idiot dating Argent's daughter," he spat, and Bailey's heart jumped as her head whipped around to Scott, accusation in her eyes as she bit her tongue from snapping at the boy. Argent's, however young or innocent looking, were always dangerous, and the boy was stupid enough to date one. Bailey had the right mind to smack him over the head a few times to knock sense into him, but she recalled how enthralled Derek had been with his first love at Scott's age and it kicked her in the stomach, nice and hard.

"If I'm with you, I lose her," Scott said, desperate. Derek pressed his lips into a firm line.

"You're going to lose her anyway, you know that," he stated, turning to leave. He turned at Scott's command, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not part of your pack," the younger male began, "but I want him out. He's my responsibility too."

"Why?" Derek asked, genuinely curious. Bailey turned, facing the omega werewolf and cocking her head to the side, listening intently. She found this whole debate amusing, really, because she knew deep down that, like Scott, Derek meant the best, even if he was more than slightly misguided. Scott swallowed.

"Because he's innocent," he said after a moment, causing Bailey's stomach to lurch. Both she and Derek knew that some of the Argent's didn't care about innocent, and those that did followed their leaders anyway. Bailey breathed in, looking over at Derek and giving the man a nod.

"I'm in," she said, though part of her felt like she'd regret it soon enough.

* * *

Twenty minutes later and with Bailey in the back seat, Derek beside him, Stiles pulled up at the station with his radio playing softly. The alpha leaned forward, examining the surroundings before glancing at Stiles. "The keys to every sell are in a password-protected locked box in my dad's office," the teenager began, glancing back at Bailey nervously. "The problem is getting past her." Her being the dark-skinned, pretty deputy that was usually seen behind the front desk at the station. Derek shrugged passively.

"I'll distract her," he said, nonchalance in his voice. Stiles frowned and pulled him back as he made a move to leave.

"You?" Stiles demanded, shaking his head. "You're not going in there."

"And it's best to take your hand off of him," Bailey whispered from the back seat, amused with Derek's steely glare.

"I'm taking my hand off," Stiles said, nodding.

"I was exonerated," Derek argued, looking between Bailey and Stiles as though that wasn't obvious. When Stiles pointed out that he was still a person of interest, the dark-haired man rolled his eyes. "An innocent person of interest," he said to Stiles's amusement.

"You? Innocent?" the boy demanded, laughter dissipating as Derek narrowed his eyes.

"Not a wise choice of words, Stiles," Bailey snorted from the back. Derek's eyes moved to the blonde, but she sneered and wrinkled her nose at him. "What's your plan then, stud?" she asked, smirking heavily. As though it should have been clear by now, Derek's eyes widened.

"To distract her."

"How?" Stiles and Bailey asked at the same time. He gritted his teeth.

"By punching her in the face?" Stiles added, pulling a laugh from Bailey's throat. Derek forced a sarcastic breath of laughter, looking done with the two of them.

"By _talking _to her!"

"Oh, shit," Bailey said, as though realization had suddenly crossed her face. "Yeah, talking to her. I forgot that you were such a stud, Derek."

"Give me some samples, what are you going to open with?" Stiles pleaded. When Derek did nothing but stare pointedly at the two of them, Stiles nodded. "Dead silence, that's great. Any other ideas?"

"I'm thinking about punching you two in the face."

"Watch it, Hale, or I'll have your head mounted on my wall," Bailey warned, though her tone lacked malice. Derek rolled his eyes, stepping out of the car, eagerly followed by Stiles and Bailey.

* * *

Somewhere in the winding halls, Bailey and Stiles got separated. She wasn't really fussed since she could look for Isaac while Stiles fetched the keys, but hearing the alarm going off sent a panic through her. She focused her hearing, taking off in a sprint to where she could hear Stiles in a scrap with the hunter posing as a police officer. She stopped in the hallway, eyes falling on the syringe in the man's hand, Stiles on the ground, the cell door ripped open and the cell empty. "Shit," she cursed, hearing a growl as Isaac launched himself at the hunter, pushing him back onto the table that sat in the cell-room and snapping at him, though the man put up quite a fight. Phasing, Bailey darted over to Isaac and grabbed him by the shoulders, shoving him as far back over to the other side of the room as she could just as Derek walked in.

The hunter came at the blonde and she grabbed his arm, forcing him to drop the syringe before she slammed his head against the wall just hard enough to concuss him, watching as his limp body fell to the ground. Derek's fierce growl filled the room, causing the blonde's head to snap as she returned to normal, Isaac cowering in the corner as though he was a puppy that had just gotten a scolding. Stiles looked terrified the whole time, standing there shaking, leaning against the wall as he panted heavily. Bailey watched Isaac closely, her head cocked to the side. She had no idea that it was possible to howl a beta into submission like that. "How'd you do that?" Stiles asked, puffing.

Derek turned, smirked. "I'm the alpha," he stated coolly, alarm bells ringing in their ears. Bailey rolled her eyes, but part of her stung at the resemblance to her Derek, the one she'd always loved and grown up with. Derek grabbed Isaac by the collar, hitching him up and pulling him toward him, muttering something about how they had to get out of there before the sheriff arrived. Stiles wanted to protest, but he knew someone had to be there to take to the fall for what had happened – but not him, the unconscious "officer" on the ground beside him, lying motionless. "Come on, Isaac," Derek urged, the quiet, shivering boy looking forlorn. Stiles winced as he looked around, one hand on his head, face coated with disbelief.

"See you at school, Stiles," Bailey said, a light teasing tone in her voice. He smiled.

"Bye, Ms. Barlow."

* * *

**_Apologies for any odd formatting. I'm not sure why, but line breakers don't seem to be working for me at the moment and I can't figure out how to make them show up. Love you guys._**


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